


The Guardian of the Mantel

by Caedmon



Series: Advent [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Nutcracker, angel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:56:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8761393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: Her billowing gold dress was sparkling, her porcelain hands were extended in a gesture of benevolence, her beautiful pink face was the very image of kindness and serenity. She was lovely, and he thanked the Manufacturer that he’d been given the gift of basking in her glow, even as he prayed a little prayer that the People wouldn’t change their minds about where he belonged and move him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on tumblr prompted me with " _Christmas Tree Topper Angel Rose x Nutcracker Soldier Ornament Doctor._ " I copied the prompt into the document with the others, but forgot to note that person's name. I'm so sorry about that...and if you're reading, let me know so I can correct my mistake! 
> 
> Part five of ['Advent'.](http://archiveofourown.org/series/596995)

He’d been in love with her for ages - ever since the night he’d been presented as a gift by some cousin. He remembered all too well being pulled out of his bag, tissue paper cast aside haphazardly, then being placed on a table in the foyer with a fair amount of praise for how handsome he was. The Woman had caught the Children playing soldier with him - slamming the lever in his back that made his mouth open and close, throwing their voices to make it seem like he was talking, putting matchbox cars between his teeth to crush - and she’d taken him away and placed him on the mantel. He liked this spot a lot better - he was now out of reach and could guard the pine garland with white fairy lights and the snowman candelabras.

That had been the first time he saw her, perched high atop the tree. Her billowing gold dress was sparkling, her porcelain hands were extended in a gesture of benevolence, her beautiful pink face was the very image of kindness and serenity. She was lovely, and he thanked the Manufacturer that he’d been given the gift of basking in her glow, even as he prayed a little prayer that the People wouldn’t change their minds about where he belonged and move him. 

She didn’t seem to notice him, though. It made sense, he supposed - her tree was large and packed with ornaments that must be managed. She did so with grace, dignity, and aplomb, and he wasn’t surprised to see the way all the Hallmark figurines responded to her respectfully. Every year, she was given more to oversee - friendly snowmen, complacent Santas and mischievous gingerbread men - but they very quickly all learned their place in the hierarchy and fell into line with gentle guidance from her. 

But still, after several years as the largest sentient decorations in the room, they’d never spoken. He’d try to talk to her sometimes, practicing what to say for hours, sometimes days. He’d open his mouth wide in preparation for the brilliant, clever and impressive words he’d thought up, then close it when the words failed him. 

So he spent years on the mantel, standing guard, staring up at her angelic face, knowing that to be with her was impossible. They might as well live in different houses. 

But this year - this year was different. Worse. 

The People had elected, since the Children were older now and not nearly so destructive, to decorate the tree more elegantly and with a theme. All of the ornaments this year were either red, white, or red-and-white striped, and sprigs of what looked like candy stuck out from random locations. Even the Baby’s First ornaments, always granted a place of honor at the top of the tree near his Angel, were missing. 

If he’d had a heart, it would have sunk through the mantel and into the fireplace below when his last hope for another year gazing up at her was dashed as they affixed a large, fluffy bow to the top of the tree, where his Angel belonged. 

He did his job of course, guarding the mantel just as he always had, but a deep sadness settled over him. A Christmas without his bright Angel glowing from her rightful place atop the tree was hardly cause for celebration. He’d rather be sleeping, wrapped in newspaper in the garage, running the risk of being nibbled by a mouse. 

Until, impossibly, the People saved him from the depths of depression. 

“Something’s missing up there,” the Woman lamented. 

The Man cast a look in the general direction of the mantel and shrugged. “Looks the same as every year.”

“It needs something,” the Woman mused with her finger looped on her chin. 

“Oh, no,” the Man said, holding his hands up in front of him. “I know that look. No way.”

The Woman smiled innocently. “What look?”

“The I’m-about-to-go-to-the-craft-store look. No way. I’ll cut up your credit card before I turn you loose in that place at Christmas again.”

“But sweetheart,” she wheedled. “The mantel is _missing_ something. It looks like there’s a hole up there.”

“Looks fine to me,” the Man grunted.

“Look at the poor nutcracker,” she suggested, and the Man turned around. “Doesn’t he look lonely?”

“He looks like a wooden doll.”

“I bet he’s sad.”

“He’s _not_ sad, love.”

“I bet he is. Look at him. That smile is fake.”

The Man rolled his eyes. “So get one of your other decorations. You’re not buying anything else, and I mean it.”

“None of the decorations I have will match,” the Woman pouted. 

“How about the angel?” the Man suggested. 

On the mantel, the soldier stood impossibly straighter.

“Hmm...that’s a thought.”

“You wouldn’t trash her last year. Said she was too beautiful to put her out with the rubbish.”

“She is. But sweetheart, she doesn’t match.”

“She’s gold, isn’t she?”

“Yes…”

“Gold matches everything. Put her on the mantel. If you don’t like her there, you can buy something else for next year. But not _this_ year.”

“You’re a grump,” the Woman accused, even as she left the room. When she came back moments later, his Angel was in her hands. 

The Woman approached the mantel and carefully, oh so carefully, positioned his Angel beside him, then stepped back. “There,” she said. 

“That better?” the Man asked from his armchair.

“Much,” the Woman agreed. “You know, I actually think I like her there.”

“Good,” the Man said before he turned his head back to the telly, then he muttered. “Saves me a fortune.”

In an eternity and no time at all, they went to bed, leaving him on the mantel with his Angel. 

He watched her silently as she looked all around her, getting her bearings in her new environment. She jumped just a little when she caught sight of him, but gave a gentle smile. “Oh, hello,” the Angel said. 

His jaw worked for a moment soundlessly, then he said the only thing that came to mind. “Hello.”

“Hello,” she smiled brighter. “We’ve never spoken before, but I’ve seen you here for several years. My name is Rose.”

 _Rose._ His Angel had a name, and it was as lovely as she was.

“My name is John,” he replied, proud of himself for forming a complete sentence.

“I’m pleased to meet you, John.”

“Oh, the pleasure's all mine,” he gushed now that he’d found his words. 

She turned from him, still smiling, and looked out over the vista of the lounge. “Looks much different from here,” she mused. “I’m usually much higher, and over there.” She pointed to the tree.

“Yes,” he agreed, nodding. “I know.”

She gave him a kind smile. “Forgive me, I’m not trying to be condescending. I’m just a little...out of sorts. I thought surely I wouldn’t be used this year.”

“But here you are,” he pointed out. “You’re here on the mantel. And it’s a lovely mantel.”

“It is,” she allowed with a beautiful smile that made her seem to glow, then it faded. “I miss my friends, however.”

He had nothing to say to that for a moment, then looked up at her. “I’m here,” he offered. “And I’d be pleased to be your friend.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It’s always been a bit lonely here. It will be lovely to have a friend to talk to.”

Rose reached one hand out to him. He raised his arm and offered the little wooden ball at the end that served as his hand. She took it without hesitation. 

“I’m so glad I met you,” she said with sincerity.

"Better with two?”

“Absolutely.”


End file.
